I was always taught that our history builds our future. Is this true? In my case it is. You can change geography, you can get a new profession, you may get new people around yourself, you may travel to different countries, but those who contribute to your vision are still with you. This is what I was taught.

I often accept friends on Facebook, and I’m usually reminded that Mark Zuckerberg’s definition of the word doesn’t match Webster’s. I was thrilled recently when I recognized the name of a true friend on an invitation. Roman Manevich and I share a common motherland and a long friendship between families. When we left the Soviet Union, we headed different directions. I got an occasional letter, or less frequently a phone call, but the opportunities to connect were rare. Suddenly there he was, surrounded by sculptures of his own devising, just as I had imagined.

I brought with me to the United States some memorabilia from childhood and surely, from a couple generations earlier, and I am happy to have around the things that are dear to me. One of them is the book of Titus Maccius Plautus’s Selected Comedies. This book has Roman’s signature. Sure, it’s in Russian, and it says: Look at the world with happy eyes! I have thought about these words many-many times! This message was a great support on numerous occasions….

Look at the world with happy eyes!

One of the great challenges to the immigrant is rebuilding your life in the new homeland. Culture and language are predictable obstacles, but many are forced to find a new livelihood as well. Roman was able to keep his career as a sculptor, but he had to develop a new way to run the business behind his art. He shares his lifetime of carving, cutting and molding by starting where stories always do – at the beginning.

Hi Roman! It was a little bit challenging to have you talk about yourself, but I am glad you are here, and you are about to share some of your story. I asked you numerous times the same question as if I were hoping to get a different answer from you. Roman, I am asking it again, and it will be the last time. I promise! Did anyone else in your family have a talent for art? Your Mom? Your Dad?

No. My Mom used to say: “I do not know whom he took after. I cannot even draw a cat…”

So, how did you come to sculpture?

I came to sculpture by chance. I was attending a drawing class for children at a community child development center called the Palace of Pioneers. A local sculptor who was teaching the class got interested in the structure of my face and he started to mold my portrait. He was the one who convinced me to apply to the department of sculpture at the local art school, and after the seventh grade I applied… This man became my favorite Teacher!

What were your studies like? What did you learn?

We studied at the school for five years — every day molding clay and drawing from nature. Once I asked the Teacher why he doesn’t teach us to work in wood or stone. The answer was simple: “Everything you can mold, you can cut and carve.” And all my life I am becoming more convinced of the correctness of these words: in my wood and in all grades of stone, my sculptures are not worse than in bronze – and bronze is just a copy of what I mold. This school was followed by six-year education at the Surikov Art Institute in Moscow.

I Devoted 11 years to my artistic trade. The trade for me means not something low. It means something that is a necessity for any artist, musician, or a poet. And the highest level of trade is art!

The highest level of trade is art!

I still have some pictures from your downtown Kishinev outdoor exhibition. Do you want to share with our readers what it was like to work as a sculptor in the USSR?

I have been a sculptor all my life – for 60 years now. In the USSR it was necessary to be a member of the Union of Artists in order to receive orders from the state. The state was the only customer. I was often asked to do a sculpture of Lenin. Because it went well, I got more orders — for statues of Lenin! A private order was for the cemetery only.

Our families went different directions. Mine went to the US, yours to Germany. We left just before the Soviet Union was about to fall apart. And you? How did that change things for you?

We left for Germany after the collapse of the USSR. In Moldova, where I lived at that time, the war began, and I am a man of peace. A lot of surprises were waiting for me in the new country, but the main surprise was that there were no state orders.

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Private orders significantly expanded the themes of sculpture – from animals to portraits. As the themes got more diverse, I could tell stories with my work.

Are you primarily staying in Hanover or do you travel?

While in the USSR, I attended three symposiums in Latvia. Two months of communication with colleagues on a full pension, without the need to think about making money – good! But living in Germany, I discovered a whole world: symposiums in China and Brazil, in France and in Denmark, in Turkey and Austria. Different materials: the oak, the linden, the sandstone, the granite, the marble… It’s always interesting, exciting. You get acquainted with sculptors from all continents, compete with them, and rejoice if your work succeeds!

Rom, are you in touch with friends and colleagues?

Unfortunately, I could not learn German as a native. The language barrier interferes with close communication with German sculptors. My Russian colleagues are scattered around Germany. We meet only at symposiums and large exhibitions. In Hanover, where I have been living for 22 years, I am the only Russian sculptor. I am an optimist, and modern means of communication save me from loneliness.

You wrote me years ago about your Max and Moritz wax sculpture. I understand this presented an unusual challenge.

About Max and Moritz: writer and cartoonist Wilhelm Busch wrote in 1865 a wicked tale about the mischievous boys Max and Moritz, and he himself made illustrations of them. This detail is very important in my story since the public knows these characters only from Busch’s drawings. I received an order from a private wax museum in Austria.

The principle of all wax museums is absolute naturalism, deceitful figures, like living people. Clothing is made from real fabric that would fit the body. The hair, eyes, and teeth are like natural.

And the problem with Max and Moritz?

Max and Moritz areBusch’s caricatures… not mine! It was necessary to make natural boys, recognizable as caricatures without having a life model. I had to draw a sketch.

I worked on them for half a year. It was 2001. For the first time in my life, I dealt with wax. And the client and the public loved the result!

Later, for the same museum, I made the nude figure of Christ on the cross and the Virgin Mary with Mary Magdalene at his feet.

And all these characters are life size?

Of course! God made man in His own image, but I made this Christ in my own image. This is why his height is 170 cm. The only thing is that he is dark haired and I am not.

The first time I saw a picture of Lorelei you sent to me, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was mesmerizing. How did it come to be?

At one of the symposiums, a theme was set: “Legends and Myths”. I recalled about one old German legend…

Once upon a time, in fishing village on the Rhine, there lived a beauty. A rich knight noticed her and took her to his castle. He took a little amusement, and then returned her to the fisherman father. However, the girl fell in love in earnest; all the grooms were driven away by her dreams of the knight. The local bishop ordered her to be taken to the monastery.

On the way, Lorelei asked the guards to let her take a look from the high cliff above the Rhine at the castle where she was happy. And under the cliff a whirlpool was churning. A canoe sailed on the river, and in it Lorelei saw the beloved knight.

She called to him, and the young man raised his eyes and let go of the paddle. And the stream whirled the boat and sank it. Then the girl rushed from the cliff into the river and also died in the waves. And since that time, at sunset, local people began to notice on the rock the ghost of the beauty. She strokes her long golden hair with a comb and sings. Look at her, fisherman or a traveler on a boat, and die in a whirlpool …

Poets have written about the beautiful Lorelei, including the great Heine.

Lorelei by Roman Manevich

I carved out of Carrera marble not a fisher-girl, but that ghost. This is why, she is sexy and naked, with a comb in her hand.

Oh! Roman! What a moving story! I wish they’d still be alive! Years ago, you sent me a picture and told me a little about a project you call “To Hear Each Other,” How did they show up?

I first made the initial composition while in the Soviet Union, at the House of Art in Latvia. I molded them 50 cm tall from chamotte (ceramic), and then I glazed them in a kiln. So, I brought them with me to Germany. Once, they were seen at a local exhibition in Hanover and were adopted by a local church. Being a Godless commie, I was so surprised, and I felt very happy that my screamers found a great home for themselves.

In 1998, I finished carving my screamers in granite while in Austria. These are 1.5 meters each. They found a spot for themselves near the gate of a quiet country cemetery in Schwarzenberg, Austria. You can see a great contrast: they are screaming at the gate of the absolutely quiet cemetery, and they can’t hear each other.

What was your motivation to do them?

It was absolutely philosophical. I am convinced that all wars we have are because people don’t listen to each other. So, they scream and scream something of their own, but they cannot hear the other. And not being able to listen to each other is the main reason for wars – starting with the family and ending with the world.

Not being able to listen to each other is the main reason for wars …

I won’t ask you to shout and I’ll trust the readers to listen. Would you like to share anything else with them?

At the end, I want to say that my life is very fortunate. I know many people who had to bend, change their lives and their profession due to various circumstances.

I shared my story in my book Love Is Never Past Tense, but my life could have gone in a very different direction. For those who have never gone through it, immigration is only a political problem. All immigration is personal to the immigrant, and each person takes a different path. Today, my old friends help me explore a path I didn’t take. You met them in my Exodus story, but they have a story of their own. They offer a great example of rebuilding lives and contributing to their new homeland. It would have been a great American success story, except they didn’t go to America.

It is very difficult to leave the country where you were born, raised and established yourself as a human being, to relocate even when you relocate to a safer place, to make sure that your family is not threatened by the unpredictabilityof the next day, and your kids are not in danger.

Boris and Marina Bubis

In 1989, inspired by my friends Boris and Marina Bubis and motivated by the USSR crumbling around me, my family and I fled the country in search of a brighter future. Boris bravely took the first leg of the train trip with us to help with luggage and see us safely off the Soviet state, putting his own safety at risk by doing so. He escorted us as far asChop, a border city that required special permits even short visit. We had them – he did not. We were ordered to get off the train with our luggage, where we would need to wait two days for the next train.

Excerpt fromLove Is Never Past Tense – Part Three: Exodus

Boris grabs the trunks and carries them to the door. I go to the conductors. “Guys! What can be done not to make us leave? My mom is sick and I have a child.”

“Nothing,” the boys say. “We’ve been on this route for several years. Everybody leaves. The visas are already collected. We gave them to the customs officers.”

“Boris!” I shout. “Put the trunks back into the compartment!”

“You are out of your mind,” Boris was taken aback. But he drags the bags back. Then he takes off from the train car and hides behind a night train, so as not to be caught by the frontier guards. A person without the special permit is, at the minimum, sent to a prison cell with a long time tofigure things out.For us, especially for him, this is not needed.

My story, including the harrowing train trip across Europe, is in the book. For all I knew, that would be the last time I saw Boris. I had to get back to the train and find a way to survive the next couple days. He had to sneak back home through the country I had just escaped, knowing he could be asked for a permit he didn’t have at any moment, andfinda way out for his own family.

Fortunately, my plan to move to America succeeded and his plan to take his family to Israel did as well. In spite of the chaos, we kept in touch. My exodus story is told in the book. Almost 30 years later, I chatted with my old friends on Skype and I heard their version of what happened after he left us.

Both of them have made their mark on their new home (Israel) and the world at large. During our conversation, Boris masked his courage and expertise with characteristic modesty. Marina offered a bit more about her work and what’s happening with their children—toddlers in my story now grown into adults following in their parent’s footsteps on a path of their own.

J:(Janna) Hi Boris! I am so glad you agreed to the interview! So, I never asked you what happened after you jumped out of the train. Can you tell me?

B:(Boris) Sure. Practically, nothing exciting. It was November 29. It was around 12 AM or so, and you remember how cold it was outside. Thank God, I was in a warm jacket! I was looking for dark corners to hide to be unnoticeable, after I bought a return ticket. Luckily, the clerk was changing her shift and in a hurry did not ask me for the permit. Still, when I came back home it was a relief. Marina and kids were happy to see me back safe. Remember, at that time we did not have the cell phones?

J: Marina, I am assuming that for you it was very scary to let him go with us to the border. I remember, having this thought, but I did not want to ask you anything about your feelings not to amplify the fear. I thanked you for this in my mind so many times!

Close friends in our culture are the same as family

M:(Marina) Yes, Janna, it was pretty tough, but we are friends, and close friends in our culture are the same as a family. Isn’t it what friends do for you? We were waiting anxiously for him to come back home safely and learn that you left safe. So it happened!

J: I appreciate you, guys, for instilling in me the thought about the departure. I even have this very moment in my book at the time we had a vacation in Crimea:

The days flew cheerfully in Koktebel. In the evenings we gathered at Anna and Vladimir’s home, local residents who provided simple living for people on vacation. We sang songs with a guitar, told jokes, laughed a lot, drank plenty, and ate heartily.

“It is time to split,” Boris said.

“You’ve only arrived! Why do you have to leave?” I asked.

“But not in this sense …” Boris stretches his words in thoughtfulness. “There is no place to come back to, as a matter of fact. Before our departure from home, someone scratched a cross on the door of our house. Do you know what this means?”

“No,” I answer.

“It means, that we are marked by these thugs-nationalists. Nobody stops them. Not law, not government, not militia. Tomorrow a battle cry will resound: Beat the Jews!—And the Holocaust will begin with a new interpretation. And the most repugnant thing is that at work they hint to me about another nominee for my position. Fortunately, they let me go on vacation. They even paid me money. But I think it is just a tribute to good manners. When I return, they will show me to the door.”

Boris broke off, filtering sand through the thin palm of his hand.

Boris knows everything

Boris is my close friend since childhood. He is handsome and very smart. Boris knows everything. Even when he has no answer, he, all the same, knows everything. I knew too, that in Moldova anarchical forces were rising. They are gathering in parks and plazas, crying out chauvinistic slogans: “Moldova—for Moldavians!” All the others—Slavs, Jews, and other ethnic minorities, should in their opinion, leave the country. But I did not give it much thought: they were just youth gatherings, I thought, nothing more …

“Hitler’s Germany began with street processions too. And then six million Jews went to the gallows and to the gas chambers. To leave, it is necessary—you understand, Jannoshka? Or are you immune? ”

“Where to split to, Boris?” I whisper.

“Where? Probably, to Israel. Where else can you split?”

“And what will you do there?”

“I want freedom. I want to live easy!” Boris stands up and with long steps goes to the sea.

In fact, everything is so good: the hot sun, the sea. What slaughter? What gallows? But, in fact, Boris said that. And he knows everything.

“Marin, what do you think on this occasion?”

“I think like Boris,”—was the short answer. It was August 1988.

Shortly after I came home from that vacation, I found a Star of David scratched in my door…

J: It was tough to understand that you were going in a different direction. Now, when all is quiet, tell me please why you chose Israel over the United States?

M: I doubted whether to go to Israel or to the United States. My aunt, who lived in America, asked Boris’s profession and whether he spoke English. My Mom said ‘He is a very good person.’ My aunt said ‘This is not a profession.’ We understood it would be better to go to Israel. We knew Boris’s parents and sister would not go to America. This is why the vector was directed toward Israel.

B: I felt Israel is closer to my heart and better for me. I had relatives here, cousins, aunts, everybody was here.

J: It means to me that not everybody wants to come to America…

Not everybody wants to come to America…

B: You wanted! You were saying you wanted to live in a free and diverse place. I didn’t have a second thought of going anywhere but Israel. I never wanted to go to America. Maybe, in the United States it’s more comfortable, but I am comfortable here. I am good here! My friends are here! I hope my kids will have nests of their own here.

J: Did you have any moments you were sorry you went to Israel?

B: None.

J: What kind of difficulties did you have when you came to Israel?

B: It’s a bunch of difficulties like everybody else when they relocate for good: language barriers, mental barriers. I didn’t read or write as well as a native speaker. And this was before, and still, the language is not native. Still, I’m sure I made the right decision to move here.

J: Marina, I remember your parents had difficulties to leave. Why?

M: When I was leaving, I practically said farewell to my parents. At that moment, it was absolutely not clear if they could go with us. My Dad had clearance and his dissertation was under clearance as well. It was very problematic that he would be allowed to leave the Soviet Union, even at that time.

J: This is so horrible, so horrible Marina! I can’t even imagine how you felt leaving your parents behind.

M: OK, Janna, I was leaving because I wanted to take the kids out of there, because it was scary to stay there. Do you remember when you came to our house and said pogroms were about to start? By the time of your departure, there started to appear signs of hope that my parents would be able to leave, and my Dad’s classified dissertation was no longer a problem.

J: Yes, I remember! This was the time when my family and I, and even our birds in the cage came with us. You guys had a metal door, and it felt safer at your house. We did not know how long we would stay, and the birds had to be cared for every day. So, we had to bring that screaming crowd in the cage with us.

With everyone safely out of the country and accounted for, our conversation turned to their lives after leaving the Soviet Union. Immigration doesn’t end a story. It merely starts a new chapter.

J: I am sure you could write your own book about your immigration and new life. So, can you please share, Marina, what was the reason that during a long period of time you were flying to the US several times a month? I remember you came to our house for a whole week years ago, as you were earning your Ph.D. in Biochemistry.

M: I actually came at 1998 at the end of my postdoc. I visited you on my way to the 2 weeks “Cold Spring Harbor course”.

J: Oh! Yes! You were at an International Conference in Las Vegas before that…

M: I presented our company’s work at APS (American Paraplegia Society) – 7-9/09/2004 in Las Vegas.I was working in a team of the cell therapy company namedProneuron. Those times we conducted phase 2 clinical trials in Israel and the US. We worked hard to transfer the experimental technology developed in Israel for the treatment of severe spinal cord injuries to its US manufacturing sites and also flew to take a necessary part in the manufacturing of this therapy for the US patients enrolled in the trial.

J: Marina, what’s going on with your kids, Ettel and Mark? Mark was my best buddy when he was three years old. Do you remember, he listened only to me for some time?

M: Both of them served in the army. Both of them are professionals. Ettel is in the beginning of her Ph.D. Mark is studying in Jerusalem University to be an engineer in Electronics.

J: Boris, now, back to you! I recall that you worked as a worker in Israel, although you were an engineer by profession. I am so proud of you that you became an engineer again!

B: I finished a certification course, and those who went through this program had access to engineering jobs like the one I am doing. It was very hard to start. Everyone who started the course was an engineer already. At the beginning, we were just workers. After a few years, we got back to our engineering positions.

I was so proud of you that you had such an input into world peace, Boris! This makes me feel closer to Israel. 9/11 was so shocking to me as a US citizen! It shook the whole world! How did you become the Quality Engineer for this world monument?

B: Janna, it’s so simple. Do you know how many huge projects I had? This one has a big significance, but by volume, I have bigger works. For me, it’s just my job. During this project, I learned how to solve some technical problems we were trying to solve. I had the blueprints for this Memorial, and I had to make sure they were followed.

Boris Bubis at the 9/11 Living Memorial, 2014

J: What about this project was special for you?

There are plaques with three thousand names on this monument

Commemorative plaque on the base of the Monument

B: There are plaques with three thousand names on this monument, and I found the name of my friend who died on 9/11. He was an architect and we worked together for the same company back in the Soviet Union. We weren’t close friends, but …

Someone told me that he died or disappeared… His name wasAdik Zaltsman. He was a gorgeous young man. He was very talented and goal oriented.

By the way, the architect of this project is the son of parents from Moldova.

J: This is a huge thing, Boris. We started new lives being adults. We did not play Four Square in these countries as kids. And suddenly you were responsible for engineering works, quality engineering for a monument important to Israel, to America and to the whole globe.

The 9/11 Memorial in Jerusalem

B: There are a million people like me. There could have been another person working on this Monument.

J: And instead of Yuri Gagarin there could have been a different person as well! Yes, Boris? And you and me could have been different people too! But we are who we are, and WE do what WE do! We live in the free countries we chose, and we are talking now without being threatened. So, we made it, Boris! WE, Boris, made it!

So there you have it, the path I didn’t take but others did. Immigration is always personal and always painful. I hope that our grandchildren, and their grandchildren, will know of immigration only through old stories!